


Sweats

by thorinduils (orphan_account)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thorinduils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who did Haymitch think he was, anyway? The fashion police? That was Effie's job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweats

She answered the door without hesitation. He looked her up and down for a few seconds, and instinctively she crossed her arms. The air suddenly felt chilled compared to her arms and cheeks and neck.

“Really?” Haymitch said dubiously, stepping inside.

“Just because you’ve already seen my girl parts doesn’t mean I can’t still guard them dear.”

“I was talking about the sweatpants.”

The door slammed behind him, and Katniss could still catch the scent of incense and tequila as Haymitch sauntered off to the kitchen. 

“Paint’s already on the deck,” she called after him. She joined him later with two outrageously tall glasses of mint julep. He grinned up at her, accepting the drink gratefully. Haymitch, who had come dressed for the occasion in a holey gray tee shirt and jeans, was covered in white. He had paint under his eye and a fleck on his lip and a big hearty dash across his Adam’s apple. There was also a smattering of creme across his arms— tanned, burned, scarred, toned, lovely things—and there was an artificial glow present between his long, calloused fingers.

“Nice job,” Katniss said coolly, surveying the western wall of her house. There was still work to be done – there still remained unholy, ungodly, forsaken sunset orange– but so far, so good. 

Haymitch made a face, taking a draught of his drink. “’Nice job,’” Haymitch mimicked in a voice that was dangerously close to Katniss’ voice. “Of course it’s a nice job,” Haymitch scoffed, “I’m the one who did it.”

“And I’m the one who supervised,” Katniss added. 

Haymitch’s lip curled. He raised his roller of paint and flicked his wrist, spraying Katniss from head to toe with a line of paint. Katniss scowled as Haymitch appraised her.

“Much better. A little bit more white – ” Haymitch flicked again “—and you might even make a fashion statement with those hideous pants.”

Katniss shoved him to the ground before taking the bucket of paint and dumping it on his head. She wanted to kick him, too, but she was just glad that she had got him on the tarp in time for the assault. The absolute last thing that Katniss needed was a deck that needed repainting as well. On second thought, if a ruined deck meant getting Haymitch over to her house more often, Katniss decided that she wouldn’t mind at all.


End file.
